No! as the foaming swathe Of torn-up water, on the main, Falls heavily away with long-drawn roar Even so we leave behind, As, chartered by some unknown Powers, EARLY DEATH AND FAME. OR him who must see many years, FOR I praise the life which slips away Out of the light and mutely; which avoids Stupid detraction, jealousy, cabal, The quiet mossy track to age. But, when immature death From the half-tried banquet of life, Young, in the bloom of his days; Give him emotion, though pain! Let him live, let him feel: I have lived! Heap up his moments with life, Triple his pulses with fame! YOUTH AND CALM. 'TIS death! and peace, indeed, is here, And ease from shame, and rest from fear. There's nothing can dismarble now The smoothness of that limpid brow. The crowning end of life and youth, no, the bliss youth dreams is one It dreams a rest, if not more deep, More grateful than this marble sleep. Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well. W YOUTH'S AGITATIONS. HEN I shall be divorced, some ten years hence, From this poor present self which I am now; Shall I not joy youth's heats are left behind, Then I shall praise the heat which then I lack, And sigh that one thing only has been lent To youth and in common, age discontent. |